Workplace Encounters
by CompletelyDone
Summary: Rose is a healer. Scorpius is a potioneer. They have a completely professional relationship. Probably. Two-Shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, friends! Just a little one (maybe two) shot I've been distracting myself with in class. Enjoy!**

* * *

Rose Weasley was sure she'd never heard a more terrible noise in all her life.

Desperate squawks were ringing down the brick halls, and there was no mistaking that they were coming from Room 407. Room four-bleeding-oh-seven. The very same room she had just agreed to take at the request of her manager.

"Plonker," she cursed at him under her breath. She checked her schedule once more just to make sure the number hadn't changed since she'd looked at it five seconds ago. There, in dodgy ink, _407_ stared right back at her.

Standing just outside the large wooden door to the private ward, Rose bounced on the balls of her feet and craned her neck. The old Quiddich hype-up still came in handy with troublesome patients. One last deep breath and Rose plunged into the room during a moment of remarkable silence.

"Hello, I'm Rose Weasl—" she began politely before the world shattered in sound.

Clutching the bedrail until her hands went numb, Rose forced herself to observe her patient. _Ruby Thompson of fifteen years_ , Ullman had told her not three minutes ago. She was remarkably plain—almost sadly so—and it was no exaggeration to call her mouth the largest Rose had ever seen. Utilizing a significant amount of self-control, Rose stood tall, brushed down her bright green robes and cast a nonverbal _Silencio_ over the nuisance of a girl.

She was surprised no one else had done so but quickly dismissed the thought when remembering the lazy Healer Ullman who ran the entire Spell Damage floor at St. Mungo's.

Swollen eyes on an otherwise unaffected body. Poor Ruby was panicking about her loss of sight; Rose supposed she would be equally distressed in the same situation, but she liked to think that she would voice her concerns at a far lower decibel. Sighing, Rose made a note in her pocketbook.

 _Female, 64 kg, 15 years, no drug allergy, Conjunctivitis Curse, need 120 cc Oculus Potion -Rose_

Rose was about to leave when a familiar face stepped into the room. "Is it done?"

"Honestly, Vika, I thought you were our smartest nurse! You did learn _Silencio_ in first year, didn't you?" Rose smiled sardonically at her friend.

"I sure learned it by sixth year," Vika waggled her dark eyebrows provocatively. "You remember Berit Wood, don't you?"

Choking slightly, Rose breezed past her friend in attempt to leave the previous conversation behind. Merlin knew she didn't want to relive Vika's glory days in front of a fifth-year, no matter how obnoxious. In fact, Rose preferred not to think about Vika's old flames at all, as most were the kind who compensated for a lack of brains by using their other bits. "Want to walk down to the potions department with me?" Rose asked over her shoulder. "I'd like to get this order in now so we can have some peace and quiet around here."

"Oh, is that all you're going for?" The suggestion in Vika's voice was evident. It always was.

Rose rolled her eyes—an action she'd been performing with alarming frequency since being assigned to work in the same ward as the minx who was on her tail.

"Don't think I miss the looks you give me, missy. But if it's all the same to you, I should get room 402 started on his potions and leave you and Malfoy alone to flirt horribly." Twirling her long ponytail around her wrist, Vika began to flip through the stack of patient orders on the nurse's station. "I'm sure you won't miss me too badly."

Stepping around the corner without so much as a goodbye, Rose wove through the hospital halls and stairwells in a near daze. She finally gave in and used her clipboard to fan down the heat that was spreading from her face to her neck. Her damn Weasley genes were truly unforgiving. For as long as she has been around Vika and her evocative quips, Rose was still easily flustered. Especially when Vika mentioned—

"Healer Weasley."

 _Him._

Heart jumping in her throat, Rose schooled her features enough to mask desperately-excited-to-see-you with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Would you mind giving me one moment to finish this Draught of Peace?"

Not minding at all, Rose took a moment to watch the potioneer at work. Tall, blonde, and inexplicably handsome, Scorpius Malfoy stood over a cauldron bubbling orange. The expression he wore was something between deep concentration and total relaxation. Rose—as she had on more than one occasion—admired how devoted he was to his work. Today, he wore his black potions coat open loosely with a deep red shirt that reminded Rose of the blood heating up her cheeks.

She cleared her throat, mostly to break herself out of a reverie that she could get lost in for days. Fingering her pocketbook, Rose turned her attention to the rest of the room. The makeshift counter she stood behind was a reminder that only those skilled in potions—meaning Scorpius and his rather absent colleagues Bruce and Mary—should enter the immaculate space. Though shelves lined every wall, it was easy to see that the space was well-organized. Work tables spanned the entire room and the only décor seemed to be a lone clock on the wall above the counter.

"Are you in a hurry?" Scorpius asked from where he was bottling his draught with care. Silvery vapor rose from the cauldron as he did so. Another perfect potion. Rose wasn't surprised; she recalled how stellar he had been in school, even with the most difficult potions. When Rose had tried to brew a Draught of Peace, she had failed quite miserably, green sparks and all.

"What? No," Rose sputtered quite coherently, both embarrassed to look so impatient and relieved that he didn't notice her earlier staring.

Finished with bottling, Scorpius set a cleaning charm to the cauldron and sent his product to the large shelves lining the back wall of the department. _Organized in alphabetical order by expiration date_ , he had explained once. "So, who do I thank for bringing you in person today?" Usually, potions orders were sent with the nursing staff at hourly intervals.

Scorpius approached the counter with such a friendly demeanor that Rose was convinced he was not the same potioneer who addressed her as _Healer Weasley_. Rose tore off the potions order and slid it across the marble surface to him. His long fingers brushed hers briefly, and she faintly recognized the sound of her own heart beating erratically. "Conjunctivitis curse. She's putting us all on edge, so I figured I'd get this to you as soon as possible."

"And here I was hoping you came to keep me company," he remarked casually while considering the order. A smile had worked its way onto his features. Godric, she loved to make him smile.

Rose fought down her grin. "I'm a very busy healer, Mr. Malfoy. Saving lives and all that nonsense."

Scorpius made a passive sound of understanding, but Rose didn't miss the toothy white beam he shot her way. "I've heard it said that the potions department does all the work while you healers just order us around," he quoted her from a conversation they had the day before.

So _this_ is what Vika meant by horrible flirting, Rose thought with immense satisfaction. She tugged at the neck of her robes to free her airspace. "Whoever told you that should be looked at. I'm an overworked and underpaid employee, I'll have you know!"

"You've been saying the same thing since Prefect rounds fifth year."

"You remember that?"

While anyone else may have ducked their head in embarrassment, Scorpius merely gave her a look and made his way to the back wall. "Pretty hard to forget, seeing as you said it every time we worked together."

He played it off as nothing, but Rose could count on one hand the number of times she—a brazen Gryffindor—and Scorpius—a witty Ravenclaw—were assigned to patrol together. That he remembered something she had said six years ago sent a fizzling sensation down Rose's entire body. She couldn't seem to find her tongue.

The lights above them hummed with electricity as Rose's eyes followed Scorpius' movements across the room. She couldn't help but wonder what else he remembered about her from Hogwarts. Did he recall when she knocked over his Mandrake in second year? Or remember helping her brew Felix Felicis in sixth year? Did he know then that she was impulsive to a fault? Did he now—after thirteen years of knowing her?

"I hate to tell you, but I don't have any Oculus Potion ready-made. I'll have to brew some, but it should only take me an hour," he called to her from the ingredients shelf where he was pulling down several large bottles.

"That's alright. Should I come by later to collect it?"

The clink of the bottles on his work surface echoed off the tall walls. "How about I bring it up when I'm done?" Rose wondered why he would offer until he added with a cheeky tone, "I'd like to personally be thanked by your entire floor for saving the day."

She found herself nodding. "That'll do nicely. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Always a pleasure, Healer Weasley," he replied. He held Rose's gaze firmly until she could force herself to turn and leave.

* * *

When Rose found Vika an hour later, she was stationed outside of room 407 tapping her foot.

"About time. Ruby has started to throw things." Vika snorted and pointed to her uniform. "Chucked a glass of orange juice at me just now."

"Sorry I couldn't come sooner. Ullman is on a mental vacation today."

Vika mumbled in agreement, eyes narrowing in irritation. "While I've got you here, can we give Ruby some Draught of Peace?"

Running to the nurse's station, Rose grabbed a vial from the bottom drawer. "Good idea. You administer, I'll do the paperwork?"

Upon entering 407, it was evident that Ruby was still in significant distress. Not only was the girl's back arched and mouth open in a silent scream, but there were tears running down her face and the room was strewn about. Both she and Vika had to lift their feet over several pillows and avoid the spilled juice and peas that littered the floor as they made their way to the bed.

"Ruby," Vika said calmly, "I'm putting a potion in your hand. If you drink it, it will help until your Oculus Potion comes in." The girls breathed a sigh of relief when Ruby drank the potion without complaint and relaxed only moments later.

Marking no severe reaction to the potion on Ruby's patient chart, Rose allowed herself a moment to decompress. Between Ruby and the eight other patients she had been assigned to today, she was feeling a bit spread thin.

"Speaking of potions, how's _Mr. Malfoy_ today?" Rose knew Vika liked to tease about her and Scorpius' workplace professionalism.

"He seemed alright."

Huffing, Vika picked up the pillows on the floor. "For the love of Merlin, just tell him how you feel. I need some excitement in my day."

"It's not that simple, Vik." Rose felt the familiar heat on her neck and reflexively waved her clipboard to ward it off.

Vika held open the room door to usher her friend out. "It _is_ , Rose. Just open your mouth."

"Alright. _Hello, Scorpius. I need an Oculus Potion. By the way, you look devilishly sexy in maroon and I think I'm in love with you._ Yes, I'm sure that will go swimmingly."

Stepping out of the room, Rose suddenly found herself face-to-chest with blood red.

"Healer Weasley," a familiar voice rumbled above her.

It was all Rose could do to stop herself from running in the opposite direction and hiding for all eternity. Had he heard? She made a brave look up to his face and could see no signs of alarm, which she took as a good sign.

An orange vial was held out between them. "I apologize for the delay, but it took me a while to find the unicorn horn."

"Great," Rose croaked. She accepted the vial. "I'll just go—" Backing straight into Vika, Rose fumbled with the door to 407 and cursed Vika for closing it behind them.

 _He hadn't heard. He hadn't heard._ Rose chanted to herself, willing it to be the truth as beads of sweat formed at her hairline and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Rose." She almost didn't recognize the sound of her name— _her real name_ —in Scorpius' smooth, deep voice. And she certainly didn't recognize the constricting feeling around her chest when he stepped closer and bent to her ear. "Have I ever told you how marvelous you look in green?"

Frozen in place, Rose barely noticed when Scorpius walked away or when Vika began bouncing with curiosity.

Scorpius had heard her.

Shit.

* * *

 **What do you think? Let me know by favoriting/following/commenting! I love to hear your thoughts. Best to you all.**

 **Blessings, CompletelyDone**


	2. Chapter 2

**Surprise! I decided to finish this after all. Enjoy part two of two!**

* * *

Rose Weasley was in a mood for two reasons.

For one, it had been exactly eight hours and seven minutes since she started work this morning. That it was a rather uneventful eight hours and seven minutes didn't matter. What did matter was that it was going to be another seven hours and fifty-three minutes until she could go home to a glass of mead and a bath.

For the first time since Rose had started as a healer, there were no patients admitted to the Spell Damage floor. Not one. The last that had been seen—an elderly woman with a mild case of babbling—had been discharged that morning. The medical staff on the Spell Damage floor had since appreciated a day of reprieve from unsanitary bodily fluids and rude middle-aged witches.

Unfortunately, the universe had its way of maintaining equilibrium. For all the time Rose had been making jokes with the nurses, her manager was hatching a plan he liked to call _keep Healer Weasley on her toes_. Rose tended to think of Ullman's plans as more decidedly _make Rose miserable because it's a Tuesday and/or because she's smarter than me_!

Rose _knew_ she shouldn't have corrected Ullman on the proper administration of the Wiggenweld Potion yesterday.

Consequently, Rose was now seven minutes into a second consecutive shift on an empty Spell Damage floor.

Vika had passed her a mildly sympathetic look before leaving. "It's too bad Malfoy isn't on call tonight, too. I'm sure he could teach you how to properly brew a cauldron full of hot, strong love," she sang provocatively a-la Celestina Warbeck. And then Vika was on her way with all of Rose's liberated coworkers.

Therein lay the second reason Rose Weasley was in a mood.

Scorpius Malfoy. The man she professed her love to in the most unintentional, embarrassing fashion. _By the way, you look devilishly sexy in maroon and I think I'm in love with you._

On a scale ranging from minor offense to atomic bomb mistake, Rose felt this particular blunder landed her in the nuclear warfare region. Hiroshima took twenty or thirty years to recuperate from nuclear war, and Rose was certain she would need at least that long to recover. She had already spent three weeks on high alert for stupidly handsome men with secret smiles.

Her plan to circumvent the entire blunder was going rather swimmingly. She avoided the potions department (and the entire basement) during normal work hours, ate lunch in the stairwell leading to the roof, and ducked into rooms whenever she saw tall and blonde mixed together on a man.

Vika, for her part, called Rose what she was. _Coward_. It was true, in part. Rose couldn't even bring herself to talk about the incident.

At the same time, Vika didn't understand. Vika had a smooth way with words and matters of the heart. She certainly had never pined away at someone for months and months only to trip over her tongue right before things had a chance.

And _then_ there was the most frazzling part. Rose had no idea what to make of what Scorpius had replied.

 _Have I ever told you how marvelous you look in green?_

What was Rose to think? Moreover, how was she supposed to avoid the never-ending confusion when she looked at her arms and saw _green_ , and looked in the mirror and saw _green_ , and looked at her fellow healers and saw _green_. If she had been a less responsible healer, he may have said she looked marvelous in purple or whatever color she had chosen to wear that day. But, of course, Rose was not the irresponsible type, so she was being haunted by the one color she saw more often than the sun.

The heat that had risen to her face pulled her out of her trance. There were no clipboards in sight, so Rose set her hands over her cheeks to calm down.

As the coolness settled in, Rose let out a huff of determination. She was a twenty-four year old professional, not an irrational teenager. Patting her cheeks fiercely, Rose vacated her chair at the nurse's station. Grandmum Granger had always said that laziness bred anxiety.

The Spell Damage floor was rather unnerving when no one was around. St. Mungo's was an older building, but its age didn't show as much when patients, families, and workers were bustling about. Now, in the silence, the pipes could be heard creaking up and down the ward. The hall's fluorescent white-blue hue was accentuated by the unlit and vacant hospital rooms on either side.

It was in light of the horrific ambiance that Rose decided to go down to the cafeteria. If she was going to be here all night, she may as well enjoy it with a cup of creamed coffee. Hell, she may as well enjoy it with whatever she wanted. Ullman wasn't around to tell her otherwise.

Rose flung open the door to the east stairwell and flew down the stairs two at a time. During the day shift, she would have been told off for endangering herself and others. She decided she quite liked endangering herself on this particular staircase. It was quite a liberating feeling to do what she wanted to do in a place that she loved.

Upon reaching the basement, she jumped the last few stairs and thrust her arms out to— _thwack_!

First registering a shout then registering resistance against the door, Rose stopped cold. Bloody hell, she _was_ endangering herself and others by running and throwing open doors.

"Shit!" she exclaimed. Nudging open the door, Rose looked for a victim. She found one leaning against the wall and clutching his head. Her first instinct was to duck into the nearest closet.

Tall. Blonde.

"Rose?"

Yes, this was most certainly the man Rose had been avoiding for some three weeks now.

In a moment of self-pity, Rose berated herself for coming to the basement at all. Dedicated avoidance should not be limited to regular business hours.

Rose approached, determinately pushing aside her embarrassment and steeling her nerves. Few things could focus her quite as well as a person in need of medical attention, but her heart still hammered as she grasped Scorpius' wrist and pulled it from his forehead.

She was ashamed that her first observation of this particular patient was how handsome he was with his eyes closed. Quickly shaking her head, Rose noted the wound which bled down his face in slow droplets.

Linear laceration of the left mediolateral frontal region. Roughly 3 centimeters in length. Its edges would be easily approximated with a suturing spell.

"I'm sorry for hitting you with a door." She almost missed the twitch at the corner of Scorpius' mouth. "I don't suppose there is a supply room down here? I'll need some cleaning supplies to fix this."

"You don't have to do that," he briefly squinted through his right eye. How was it that Rose had missed the intensity of his blue eyes before? "I can take a quick walk to the emergency wing."

Rose scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Those healers suture wounds like cavemen."

Consenting with a nod, Scorpius kept his eyes closed. "There's a room up the hall. Two doors further than my department, I believe."

Swallowing hard, Rose reached out to guide Scorpius down the hall by the shoulder. She was glad the blood in his eyes kept him from seeing the red flooding her cheeks more and more every moment she stood near him.

There were no nearby pipes to disturb the silence between them, only the gentle cadence of footsteps on tiled floors. Not for the first time, Rose wondered what Scorpius was thinking. Was he wondering where she had been lately? Did he notice that he hadn't seen her? Was he relieved to have had some distance from her?

Just as Rose felt the hall could stretch on forever, she finally spotted the supply room. The room itself was more closet than room, but a quick look through the drawers and cabinets told Rose that she could do her work here.

She led Scorpius to a stool in the corner, vanished the blood from his face, and turned to collect equipment. Sterile water, sterile gauze, sterile gloves, antibiotic cream, swabs, and a bandage. The rest she would do magically.

By the time she had assembled a sterile table with her equipment, a few more drops of blood had made it down Scorpius' nose and into his open palm. "I've never had a healer who used anything other than a wand."

Rose was sure he was looking at her quizzically, but she refused to be taken in by him. "Many of my coworkers believe Muggle medicine is for the birds. I've always felt there was something useful about combining the approaches."

Though Rose had never had much occasion to treat minor wounds on the Spell Damage floor, she had become a healer to her rather accident-prone family. Merlin only knew how often one of her cousins or distant relatives called her up to repair a broken bone or prank gone awry.

"Hold still. This will sting." Rose muttered a localized Numbing Spell to the area before applying a magical cleaning spell. Donning her gloves, Rose patted the wound with sterile gauze and water for both cleansing and hemostasis.

Ignoring Scorpius' gaze as she stood over him was possibly the hardest thing Rose had ever done. Three agonizing weeks away from him was nothing compared to suppressing the desire to get sick on his shoes or jump him.

"How have you been?" Scorpius asked as she assessed his forehead and decided on which suturing spell to use for the occasion.

Wasn't that the million galleon question? Neurotic. Lonely. Pathetic. Uncertain she should answer honestly, she decided on, "Fine."

He nodded absently, one hand coming up to rub his jaw. As his long fingers dropped to his lap, Rose could make out his carotid artery thrumming across his pale neck. Rose might have sworn his heart was beating as quickly as she heard her pulse in her own ears.

Damn it. This was why she couldn't look at him. She took a deep breath before turning her attention to the real matter at hand.

Anyone with Healing experience could have spotted Rose's difficulty concentrating as she magically approximated the edges of Scorpius' laceration. Luckily, Rose had enough experience with wound repair that her shaking hands did little to divert her efforts.

Just as the lesion closed, Scorpius cleared his throat. "I haven't seen you in the potions department recently."

She ignored the urge to spew excuses at him. Instead, she quickened the pace of her procedure, determined to finish, clean up, and leave within the next 30 seconds. A quick escape was the only way Rose could foresee avoiding what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation.

Antibiotic cream to swab. Swab to skin. Bandage to skin. Done.

As she had turned back to discard her supplies, she heard the scrape of the stool behind her. "Does it have anything to do with our encounter a few weeks ago?"

Clamping her eyes shut and holding her breath did nothing to alleviate the sheer panic running through Rose. Her hands slowed as she thought of how to respond. What was her angle? Naive? No, Scorpius would see through that. Annoyed? No, she didn't want him to think she hated him.

Overly-professional it was. "I don't engage in personal discussions with patients."

Just as she turned to duck out of the door and sprint toward the lift, he stepped in front of her. Face-to-chest with him, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting out a desperate sob.

"Very well, then. You're dismissed, Healer Weasley."

"Excuse me?" Rose didn't have to pretend to be offended. She may have lost some concentration during the procedure, but the outcome had been marvelous. There wouldn't be a scratch on the young Malfoy's face in a week's time.

"Never been sacked before, have you?" Scorpius quirked an eyebrow at her. Before Rose could voice her disapproval, he added, "Can I make it up to you over dinner?"

Rose dug her nails into her palms to wake herself up from what surely was a dream. The question hung between them even with her white knuckles and drawn blood.

Dinner?

Not five minutes ago, having her feelings reciprocated had seemed an impossible thing. Hope threatened to blossom in Rose's chest.

She stared, hoping to discern what he was thinking. His lips were slightly raised at the corners as usual, and his body language told her nothing. It was only the shift of his eyes that gave away his feelings of disquiet. That, and the quickened pulse Rose was now sure she saw across his neck.

He was nervous.

All at once, Rose was excited by the possibility of _really_ knowing this man. Not the aloof, perfect Mr. Malfoy who was devilishly sexy in red, but the unsure, hopeful Scorpius who smiled when she injured him with a door. Rose fought the urge to laugh as a strange kind of confidence bubbled up in her chest.

Hands coming to her mouth to keep in hysterical laughter (and possibly tears of joy), she nodded.

For a moment, they stood there in the doorway, hearts fluttering and faces flushing beneath matching grins.

Scorpius was the first to break the silence. "Merlin, Rose." He raked a hand over his jaw once more. "I'll need to temporarily re-hire you, Healer Weasley." He reached for her hand and pulled it up to his chest. True enough, his heartbeat was elevated, matching the pulse in his neck. "I'm feeling a bit strange."

She turned his hand to feel her pulse point at her wrist. His eyes jumped to hers in surprise when he noted her heart rate. "It must be contagious."

A breathy laugh escaped him. Tugging on her extended arm, he pulled her into his chest.

Before returning the gesture, Rose muttered, "Just so we're clear, I'm sacking you as a patient."

* * *

 **This story has made me realize that "healer" is a really strange word. Just think about it.**

 **Let me know what you think by favoriting/commenting/following. Sending you all the best!**

 **Blessings, CompletelyDone**


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